Papa, où t'es ?
by Ashry 42
Summary: Canada is looking for his Papa (France) who was supposed to visit him that day. Yet, to Canada's surprise, England came instead. And Canada is now wondering why his papa didn't come. (Second and final chapter is up.)
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer**: I do not own Hetalia. It rightfully belongs to it's owner Hidekaz Himaruya. I am not trying to make profit out of it. Just practicing my writing skills with my favorite manga!_

_**AN:** "Papa, où t'es?" means "Dad, where are you?"_

_Summary of historical facts:_

_France lost Canada after the Seven Years' War; a.k.a the French and Indian War (1756-1763)._

_During that time, North America was divided between 3 big colonial powers: France, England, and Spain. The British owned a portion of the territory on the East coast. The French owned the central zone, which was called Louisiana (however it has nothing to do with todays Louisiana State), and Canada. Spain owned Florida, and the southern part of the American territory._

_This era was called "Area of the French influence" or "Area of the Spanish influence" because France and Spain didn't settle down in North America; they came to America mainly for commercial reasons (like trading with the Natives). The British we're the only ones actually settling down in North America._

_The Seven Years' War was fought between France and England because of conflicts over boarders that were very undefined. As The British were settling in North America, they wanted to go further west but the French were occupying it, which lead to a series of conflicts, like the fight for the control over the Ohio Valley in 1754. Then that led, two year later, to the Seven Years War._

_At the same time there was also fighting in Europe, but I won't go into the detail._

_In the end Britain won and it ended with a Treaty of Paris. Great Britain received all of the French possessions East of the Mississippi river, Canada and Florida. Spain received all of the French possessions West of Mississippi (Lousiana)._

* * *

><p><em>Où t'es? Papa, où t'es?<em>

The leaves and branches crunched beneath each step Canada made. The cool wind whistled in his ears as he raced through the forest. He huffed with effort too tired to push the branches out of his way as they scraped past. Tears streamed down his cheeks but he kept his sobs inside. He ran, fleeing, but he couldn't stop thinking about it.

_Où t'es papa? Où t'es?_

**30 minutes earlier.**

Canada was walking down the familiar forest path he took everyday to his favorite spot in the forest. He was in a good mood, and the clear sunny day emphasizing it. Nature seemed to join in with his high spirits; the trees swayed back in forth in the gentile breeze as if dancing in tone with his perky aura. A rabbit hoped happily across his path, He heard birds, just out of sight, singing a beautiful melody that he fancied was just for him.

Canada's native tribes had taught him to respect all living things and to live in harmony with Nature, and in return, Nature would give him everything he needed. You just need to know how to find it and use it well. They had taught him the art of herbal medicine, how to hunt and many more things. But that in the end he should always thank nature for its abundance.

He had gotten to the end of the forest and now walked across a plain, which opened up to a great lake. He took in a long breath of the fresh air, and gripped his toes into the soft sand. A deer came up to him. He turned around and smiled at it, he ran a hand through its soft fur. The deer nuzzled closer to Canada.

His smile broadened as thoughts wandered. France was due to arrive today. France had told Canada on his last visit that he would return in exactly six months. The six months had now passed, which meant he would be arriving soon. Canada was growing impatient.

Suddenly he heard some noise getting closer with every passing second, coming towards him. The birds in the nearby trees took flight and soared away, the bunnies hiding in the underbrush scattered. The deer lifted its head up and stared intensely at where the noise was coming from. Its muscles bunched up, ready to leap away at any moment.

Out of the forest and into clear view came America, who was running at full speed towards his brother, and then England, who followed a few paces behind walking at a steady pace. The deer bounded away, startled by the noise and Canada was left alone.

"See! I told you he'd be here! He always comes here! It's his favorite spot! I know it because I'm the hero!" America babbled as he rushed onwards.

"Yes, yes. I know." England responded, taking his time as he made his way over.

Canada was quite astonished; it was rare for England to come visiting him on a whim. However he was not entirely surprised. Recently, England had been visiting Canada more and more frequently, and France had been appearing less and less. He didn't pay much attention about it at the time, but now he felt as if something bad was awaiting him.

America went to stand next to his brother holding a proud demeanor, satisfied to have accomplished his mission. When England arrived, he greeted Canada, who replied with his own greeting.

"Why are you here?" Canada inquired in his usual quiet voice.

"I have come to get you." England replied matter of fact, although still trying not to sound to harsh. "You're under my responsibility now." Then he added after a short pause. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you." He smiled.

Canada's eyes widened and he took a few steps back, shaking his head slightly.

"Non…" he whispered. And for a few seconds he thought he had misheard it.

"Où est France?" - (Where is France?) Canada asked, a little louder this time, his eyebrows furrowing in worry.

England sighed. He knew it wasn't going to be easy. After all, France had been the one to raise Canada from the beginning, and he knew how attached Canada was to him.

"France is not coming and never will. He has abandoned you." England thought that being blunt would get Canada to come with him.

Canada froze. Time seemed to have stopped, and for a few seconds he forgot to breath. He just couldn't believe what England had said.

Then anger slowly started rising inside him. He clenched his fists. The wind grew colder. The whole forest fell silent as if holding its breath.

Finally Canada regained control of himself and gave England a stare that closely resembled a glare. He felt the anger rise up to its peak, and thought that he would explode.

"You're lying!" He bawled. He clenched his fists tighter until they hurt.

England, who was shocked to see Canada in furry, snapped out of it quickly and became outraged himself. He opened his mouth to say something, but instantly stopped himself and gawked in shock at what he saw.

Two brown bears had emerged from behind Canada and went to stand on each side of him, growling menacingly. England grew panicked, though he tried to keep his calm. America was smiling the whole time, seemingly enjoying what he was seeing.

Canada used that moment to escape. England tried to go after him, but quickly stopped after just taking two steps; one of the bears growled and took one step forward, unsheathing his claws, warning England that if he tried to move any closer, the bear would tears him to sheds.

Canada ran through the forest at full speed, heading for the dock. Tears fell down his cheeks. He didn't want to believe what England had said. He wanted to believe that France would never abandon him. That he will always come for him. Yet, deep down, a small part of him felt doubtful.

Once he had arrived, he waited and gazed towards the horizon, hoping to see a boat arrived. But nothing could be seen except for the calm sea. He sat down cross-legged and waited, memories flashing through his mind.

* * *

><p><em>"Alors Matthieu, t'es près à faire des crêpes?" - (So, Matthieu, are you ready to make crepes?) France cheerfully said as he gathered the ingredients.<em>

_"Oui!" Matthew jumped up and down excitedly. It was his first time cooking with his papa. France had decided crêpes were an easy start._

_France listed the ingredients they would need, but then stopped in mid sentence when he saw Canada's confused and flustered face. "Quelque chose ne va pas?" – (Is something wrong?) he asked._

_"C'est beaucoup de chose… je ne sais si je vais me souvenir de tout." (That's a lot of stuff... I don't think that I can remember all of it.) Canada mumbled, fiddling with his fingers._

_"Ne t'en fait pas, je vais te guider." (Don't worry about it, I will guide you.) France smiled. "Le premier ingredient est la farine. Peux-tu me l'apporter, s'il te plais?" - [i] (The first ingredient is flour. Can you bring it to me, please?)_

_Canada went to fetch the flour. It was in a cupboard out of his reach so he took a chair and climbed up. He opened the cupboard and extended his arm out as far as he could to reach for it. He managed to grab it and drag it out. Then he climbed back down. But just when he reached the floor, he noticed the flour was pouring out of the bag and then noticed there was a cut in the bag. He yelped and tried to cover the hole with his hands but it was too late; most of it had gone. There wasn't enough left to make the crêpes._

_France, who had been busy preparing the rest of the ingredients, turned around just then, and noticed the mess Canada had made. Canada stared back at him with terrified eyes, still holding onto the bag, too frightened to move. France came up to him._

_"Je-je suis désolé…" (I-I'm sorry...) Canada stuttered, his eyes started to water._

_France crouched down to his eye level on one knee and gave him a reassuring smile. "Ce n'est pas grave, ne t'en fait pas." (It's not serious, don't worry yourself.) He patted him on the head. "Ça arrive." (Things happen.) Then he stood up. "On va nétoyer ça. Et puis on recommencera une autre fois." (We can clean this up. And then we can start again another time.) France declared._

* * *

><p><em>One night, Canada had woken up from a bad dream. He sat upright in his bed and stared blankly in front of him, his eyes big and round, he griped his white teddy bear tightly. He could hear thunder, which wasn't helping his fears, and shivered slightly. He knew he couldn't go back to sleep so he decided to get up. His small feet touched the cold wooden floor. He left his room and headed straight for France's. Once in front of the room, he hesitated an instant before slowly opening the door. He swiftly sneaked in and slipped under the covers, which caused France to wake up. For a moment France was perplexed but he quickly noticed that Canada had joined him, and smiled. Canada snuggled in closer and France wrapped an arm around him. It wasn't the first time Canada had come into his room at night because of a bad dream; France was used to it. He usually sang a lullaby and by the end of the song Canada was asleep.<em>

_Au clair de la lune,_

_Mon ami Pierrot,_

_Prête-moi ta plume,_

_Pour écrire un mot._

_Ma chandelle est morte,_

_Je n'ai plus de feu,_

_Ouvre-moi ta porte,_

_Pour l'amour de Dieu._

* * *

><p>"There you are." England's voice snapped Canada out of his daydreaming.<p>

He looked up to see England standing next to him, waiting patiently. Canada instantly got up feeling tense, ready to flee again. But England calmly extended a hand out to Canada and smiled.

"Come with me." England said. "Everything will be fine, I promise." He assured. Canada relaxed a bit but made no move towards England.

"You can't keep waiting." England insisted. "You have to accept that he will never come for you again." He paused, staring deeply into Canada's hurt eyes. He felt a bit guilty for hurting him so, but knew that he had to say it. He has to know the truth, England thought. "If you come with me, you will be reunited with you're brother." he said and waited for an answer.

Canada sighed and reluctantly took England's hand. England smiled and they left, heading back home.

Still, Canada took one last glance towards the horizon.

_Où est ton papa? (Where is your dad?)_

_Dis-moi, où est ton papa? (Tell me, where is your dad?)_

_Sans même devoir lui parler, Il sait ce qui ne va pas. (Without having to talk to him, he already know what is wrong.)_

_Ah sacré papa! (Oh, what a dad!)_

_Dis-moi où es-tu cache? (Tell me where you're hiding?)_

_Ça doit faire au moins mille fois que j'ai compté mes doigts. (I must have counted my fingers at least a thousand times already.)_

_Où t'es papa?_

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:<strong> The lyrics for the last song are taken from "Papaoutai" by Stromae. The first song is called "Au claire de la lune" and it's a French nursery rhyme_.


	2. Chapter 2

_Historical facts:_

_From 1800 to 1803 Louisiana was again in the control of France. At the time, Napolean was interested in recreating a French Empire. So in 1800 he took back Lousiana. But in 1803 Thomas Jefferson purchased Louisiana from the French._

* * *

><p>Canada now looked like a young boy of twelve human years. He toured his land like he regularly did. Today he was heading south. If he was lucky enough, he might catch sight of his brother. Canada hasn't seen him in a month. Not since England's last reunion.<p>

England liked to keep a watchful eye on his colonies. He would regularly arrange for meetings with all of them. Sometimes they would go to his place. Sometimes he would come and visit the two North American brothers. But they would see each other at least every 6 months, if not more frequently.

It had felt odd at first for the young Canadian. France wouldn't come as frequently, but when France came he would stay for a few months, and it would just be the two of them exploring, playing, having fun. They would hunt together, cuddle together near a fire, France would tell him a story before bedtime; France acted like a papa or a big brother to him.

Whereas England would only keep them for a few days at most. They never had time to develop a close relationship; they rarely did anything together. Of course, England would spend some time with them and teach them some things. But he felt more like a teacher rather than a family member. At least to Canada it felt that way. To America it seemed that England was more than a teacher and like an actual family member. But that was probably because England spent more time with America, or so, Canada thought. From time to time, Canada would feel nostalgic and wished France's return. But as the decades went by, Canada lost hope of ever seeing him again.

As Canada neared the border that separated him from his brother, he heard some people talking and instantly recognized America's loud voice. _I wonder who he's talking to? _Canada though, as he walked towards the noise. He gently pushed away a few tree branches that were in his way. When he stepped into clear view he could finally see that America was facing someone, laughing his head off. However, he was still to far away to clearly distinguish America's friend. So he walked towards them.

America, upon hearing someone approach, quickly turned his head to see who it was. When he recognized his brother he beamed him a grin and waved his arm frantically, to which Canada answered back with a small smile.

America's friend, who was also smiling, turned to face the new comer. Once he locked eyes with Canada, he instantly grew pale, his smile disappearing from his lips.

Canada instantly stopped in his tracks, for he too was surprised – more than surprised – to come face to face with France.

Seconds prolonged themselves into minutes as the two of them stud face to face, observing each other. After a while France grew anxious and started to fidget. He didn't like Canada's silence; it made him uneasy. He would have preferred anything else instead: a hug, or even a slap in the face; anything besides Canada's blank stare.

Canada didn't know how to react. Should he feel angry? Should he feel relieved? He felt both, but those feelings were jumbled up together. He didn't know which one to express.

France couldn't stand it anymore so he decided to break the silence. "Well… heu… it's nice to see you again. You've grown." He tried as graciously as he could to look pleased, yet failed miserable as the silence remained.

Finally, Canada decided to speak up. "Why?" he murmured.

"Pardon?"

He spoke a little louder. "Why?"

"Why what?" France asked, genuinely puzzled.

This time Canada practically yelled. "Why are you here? Why did you leave me? Why are you with America? Since you were here, why didn't you come to see me? Why? Why? _Why?!_" he cried out loud, his face flushed in anger and fists clenched in a tight grip.

France sighed. "It's not what you think…" He watched him with his eyes full of sadness, his heart aching.

"No?" Canada's anger instantly vanished and he stared back at him with a look of cold serenity mixed with pure hatred. "Then explain to me, _papa_." He spat the last word.

"It's not my fault. I didn't chose where I would be going. Napoleon sent me here to reclaim North American territory. He wants to build up a big French Empire, and he told me to start by taking control of Louisiana…" France trailed off, now knowing what else he could add.

"And you couldn't come to see me?" Canada asked, in a calm voice, which sent chills down France's spine.

"I'm not allowed to see you anymore, Canada. You're no longer under my care." He replied miserably, looking down at the ground. He couldn't face Canada's accusing stare.

"So you were planning on ignoring me? You were planning on sailing all the way over here without coming to see me even once? Not once?"

France, who was still staring at the ground, couldn't find any words to say. He bit his lower lip. Sure, he could have come up with a hundred excuses, but deep down he knew he was in fault.

"England was right." Canada continued. "You are a coward." France flinched, and tentatively raised his gaze to look back at him with pleading eyes, begging him to understand that the circumstances we not in his favor, that he hadn't meant to do any harm, that he truly wanted to see Canada – his cherished son – again.

"I… I really missed you…" Canada began to tear up. "I wanted to see you so badly…" tears fell freely down his cheeks.

That sight was breaking France's heart even more. He took a few steps towards him and tentatively raised a hand up. "Canada…"

"No!" Canada warned. "Don't come any closer." His anger flared up again and he swatted France's hand away. "I hate you! I hate you so much!" Suddenly he swiftly turned around and ran. "Adieu." He called before disappearing into the woods.

"Canada, wait!" France cried out. He started to chance after him but quickly stopped, his head hung low. He didn't think chasing Canada would change anything. He thought Canada never wanted to see him again.

But if he _had_ mustered up the courage to chase after him, Canada might have given him a second chance.


End file.
